FATHER OF A BASTARD SOM ASKED FOR A DIVORCE PLUS 50 MILLION

The heavy glass clicked against the marble counter as Michael signaled the bartender for another shot. The burning amber liquid scorched his throat, but it couldn't touch the icy cold numbness spreading through his chest.

Five years. For five whole years, he had poured his soul into raising those twins. He had stayed up during feverish nights, wiped away tears, bandaged scraped knees, and held them with absolute pride.

Then came the routine medical screening. Then came the DNA results sitting on his office desk.

One child is biologically yours. The other is not.

As a doctor, Michael understood the ruthless biology behind it. Superfecundation. It sounded like a cold, clinical term from a medical textbook, but in reality, it was a lethal weapon that had just torn his entire life to pieces.

He and Susan hadn't been intimate for months leading up to their wedding. The day after they exchanged vows, they had flown off to a private, completely isolated island for their honeymoon—no other men in sight. The twins had been conceived on their wedding night.

Michael slammed his glass onto the bar, his hand shaking violently. "Give me another one!"

"Sir, you've had four already—"

"I said give me another one!" Michael snapped, his voice cracking with pure agony.

The math was undeniable. There was only one possible explanation. On the very night she swore to love him until death, Susan had laid in bed with another man.

How could he have been so blind? Looking back, the signs burned in his mind like fire. Susan was the chairwoman of the city’s largest conglomerate, a billionaire heiress from one of the most powerful families around, and breathtakingly beautiful. Michael was just an ordinary guy from a modest background who happened to wear a white lab coat.

He stared into his empty glass, tears blurring his vision. Was it all just pity? he thought bitterly. Did she look down on me this whole time? Was our entire marriage just a cover-up for her dirty secret while I played the foolish, grateful husband?

The crushing pain was too much to carry. He grabbed the fresh shot, threw it back, and let the darkness swallow him as his head hit the sticky bar top.

Through the heavy, suffocating haze of alcohol, Michael felt a soft pair of hands pulling him up. He stumbled, his feet dragging across the floor as he was helped out into the cool night air and shoved into the backseat of a car.

He caught the faint trace of a familiar perfume, and his clouded brain instantly locked onto one name.

"Susan..." Michael choked out, grabbing the woman's arm in the dark. "Why? Why did you do it?!"

The woman beside him in the car remained completely silent, her face hidden in the shadows.

"Look at me, damn it!" Michael screamed, his chest heaving as tears streamed freely down his face. "Why wasn't I enough for you?! I loved you! I gave you everything! Who was he?! Who did you sleep with on our wedding night?!"

He shook her shoulder, his voice breaking into raw, painful sobs. "Answer me! I have proof, Susan! I know about the twins! I know one of them isn't mine! Say something!"

The woman never uttered a word. She just sat there in silence as the car sped through the city, eventually stopping at their location.

Overwhelmed by a deadly mix of heavy booze and blinding rage, Michael dragged her into the suite. He grabbed her, pulling her into a harsh, frantic kiss. He was drowning in betrayal, desperate to vent all the anger and humiliation tearing his heart apart.

He threw her onto the bed, expecting her to push him away or cold-shoulder him like she usually did when they argued.

Instead, "Susan" fought back with an intense, wild passion. She pulled him close, kissing him back with an unrestrained energy she had never shown in all five years of their marriage. She was responsive, uninhibited, almost like a completely different person.

Guilt, Michael thought bitterly through the fog in his mind as he lost himself in the heat. She's doing this because she knows she got caught.

Then, he completely blacked out.

Michael groaned, clutching his throbbing forehead as a brutal hangover slammed against his temples.

He sat up slowly, his body aching. The bright morning light poured through the tall windows of a luxurious hotel suite.

He looked around, squinting. The room was in complete disarray. Clothes were thrown across the floor, sheets were tangled, and the furniture was pushed out of place. It was obvious they had spent a wild night together.

Panic suddenly gripped Michael's stomach. He pulled the bedsheet over his bare chest, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He couldn't remember a single thing after leaving the bar. He remembered drinking alone to numb the pain of the DNA test... he remembered screaming at a woman in a car... but everything else was a complete blur.

Did I cheat? Michael thought, cold sweat breaking out on his neck. Did I pick up a stranger at the bar while I was drunk? God, what did I do?

As he sat there in terror, desperately trying to piece together the broken memories of the night, a sound broke the quiet room.

Click.

The bathroom door suddenly opened.

Michael froze, pulling the sheet tighter as he stared at the doorway, holding his breath.

Stepping out into the room, wrapping a plush robe around herself, was Susan.

Michael’s breath hitched in his throat, a massive wave of relief crashing over him, immediately followed by the return of the suffocating heartbreak.

"Susan..." he whispered.